


If It Wasn't For The Whiskey

by CowboyBoneSheriff



Category: Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Clothed Sex, Drunk Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Spit As Lube, drunk cowboys in love that is, just some drunk cowboys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29529645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CowboyBoneSheriff/pseuds/CowboyBoneSheriff
Summary: Arthur and John have had one too many drinks, leading to some rather risky behavior they decide to engage in--but not before they take it out behind the Valentine saloon.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	If It Wasn't For The Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> Oop, this is my first fic here. I've fallen neck deep in cowboy hell river, and I took a notion to write some shameless cowboy smut on account of that. Did I mention I'm super nervous about posting my writing here? Because holy shit, I definitely am. Anyway, here goes.

The whiskey he had drank was strong--strong enough to haze his memory just a bit, and ease the ache in his back from riding all day. 

The hazy memory had hung around, and Arthur's intention was to ensure that the ache in his back did not. And if it wasn't for John? The ache would be gone.

But here they stood, John Marston's chest flush against the chest of Arthur Morgan, the dirty-blonde haired man pushed up flat against the back of the Valentine Saloon. Their hats had long since been discarded to the ground at their feet. Arthur groaned as he felt John's lips meet his own once again, feeling the dark-haired man's warm palms and sturdy fingers grip firmly onto his own broad shoulders. 

"We're gonna get caught. Y'know that, right?" Arthur huffed between kisses, his hands holding cautiously to John's narrow, almost lady-like waist. He grunted as John's lips pressed against his own once more, and his previous statement began to fade from his mind.

"Nuh-uh," John swayed as he tried to get footing, stumbling as he planted his left foot between both of Arthur's, leaning forward onto the sturdier man, allowing his arms to slip up around Arthur's neck. "We ain't gonna." His lips met with Arthur's yet again. 

"Mhh..." Arthur hummed out, his hands again squeezing John's waist, drawing a moan from the smaller man. "Darlin'," he started. "Darlin', hold on a minute..." his voice was husky, breathy, deep. It drove John mad.

"What, Arthur?" John grumbled. Arthur could hear the frustration and impatience in his voice. 

Arthur simply raised his hand to point at the occupied outhouse behind the saloon. "Whoever's in there is gettin' an eyeful of us..." he grinned. "...and they likely ain't enjoyin' it too much." 

John could give a fuck less. The moment Arthur grinned, he swooned. The man was gorgeous. John often wondered how Arthur could be with a man like himself, and why he wasn't with some woman. He knew Arthur could have the pick any woman he wanted--he just didn't know why Arthur didn't take advantage of that opportunity.

"They're probably piss-drunk, Arthur," John leaned in, kissing lightly on Arthur's neck. "They wont remember what they saw." John shivered, feeling Arthur's warm skin beneath his own chapped lips. He pressed his cheek to Arthur's jaw, feeling the man's thick, brown scruff as he nipped at the tender skin below his ear. 

Arthur bit his own lip, groaning as he felt John nip at his neck. His hands coursed down to John's ass, grabbing the flesh through his tight trousers. It earned a loud, guttural moan from John in Arthur's name--and it sent heat straight between Arthur's legs.

"Alright, then." He held John tight, swiftly flipping them into a new position. John grunted as his back was forced to the wooden panels of the saloon's back wall. Arthur pinned John to the wall without his hands--his broad hips pushed against John's, grinding against him and holding him in place. He could feel how hard John was--throbbing, restrained by the worn fabric over his lower half. He placed his own knee to the wall under John's ass, and grabbed his thighs, pulling the younger mans legs up and around his own broad waist. 

John shivered at the contact, whining loudly as he felt Arthur's hips come so close to his own. He could feel Arthur's arousal as well, and it enticed him even more. "Arthur Morgan-" John called, his arms snaking their way around the bigger mans neck once again. He let one of his worn hands drift into Arthur's hair, pushing the man's hat up and off of his head, sending it to the ground. Arthur took this as his opportunity to tip John's head back, and with his own, he nosed John's deep brown hair aside, appearing almost black in the moonlight, roughly nipping marks onto tan skin of his lovers neck. 

John cried out in pleasure, his head tipping back on the wall of the saloon as he stretched one of his legs out behind Arthur's back, his body acting on it's own through the heated pleasure, doing all he could to get even a second of friction. 

Sure, biting back moans with Arthur was usually a necessity in camp--and it was usually much easier, to. But with all the whiskey previously ingested, no pillow to hide his face in, and the thought, the thrill of the chance of being caught--well, it just made keeping it down a little more difficult. 

Arthur grinned. He liked it, seeing John Marston a mess underneath him. 

"Can you be any louder, Marston?" He teased as he chuckled, nipping rougher, a reddened mark surfacing on John's throat. "I ain't even in you yet, honey..." he teased.

"I wish you was--" John panted, gripping Arthur's thick, tan locks in his fist. Arthur growled as his head jerked back, and in response, rutted his hips into John's, a thud sounding out as the younger man's waist jarred the wooden panel of the saloon behind him.

John moaned, his voice rough, gravelly. "Oh, shit-fire, Arthur, please--" he begged. 

Arthur didn't utter a word. John simply heard a deep, gentle chuckle arise from Arthur's throat. "Hold onto me darlin'." He ordered. 

John held tight as he felt Arthur's right hand leave its place on his leg. He hooked his leg on the bigger mans hip a little tighter as he watched Arthur work. In the moonlight, he saw Arthur's grin--his eyes meeting with Arthur's stunning blue ones. He heard Arthur shift footing, and he heard the metal clink of the man's belt buckle.

Arthur pushed up on his heels, boosting John up on the wall as he worked at his own pants buttons. 

John opened his mouth--about to ask Arthur if he needed help, or if he wanted him to work at getting his pants off while Arthur removed his own--but his groin quickly recognized the sensation of Arthur's firm, warm hand popping a button, and another, and another, working his way down to the last one. He groaned at the touch, brows furrowing as Arthur reacted with a laugh. 

"What's so funny?" John panted, looking from his left shoulder to his right as the bigger man slipped his hand under the black suspenders that rested in their rightful place, pushing the fabric down his biceps, making way for John to slip them off his forearms and let them fall at his sides. He placed his hands back on Arthur's shoulders one by one, biting back another aching moan as he felt Arthur's strong arm slip around his waist. The ox of a man took one step back, allowing himself enough room to wiggle, snatching at John's boots one by one, dropping them to the ground. He pulled one of John's long legs free of it's dark cloth cover, and the other followed suit. 

"Nothin'." Arthur mumbled, that signature grin spread over his lips, unwavering. 

"I mean it, Morgan." John huffed, looking down at his own bare legs, all his clothing having been removed by his larger lover who held him firmly and unwavering against the saloon wall. "What's funny?" 

Arthur shook his head, a few stands of sweat-dampened hair falling in front of his eyes. He pushed it out of the way, laughing.

"Whoever walks outta that outhouse is gonna think I'm back here makin' love to a woman, long as you're quiet. All they'll see in the moonlight is your long hair," he paused, trailing his hand up from John's ankle to his knee, pushing the mans leg up onto his sturdy shoulder. "And these long legs of yours, hiked up over my shoulders..." 

Before John could snap back, Arthur raised his head, his ravishing eyes leaving John's body, trading their position from such to gaze into John's own.

The sight of Arthur's eyes, and the smell of sweat on his body and sweet whiskey on his breath did things it shouldn't to John. It rendered him powerless, unable to fend for himself against Arthur's comments, his ways. 

"Oh damn, come on now--" John's cheeks flushed, looking over Arthur. He gazed down, seeing that the man had at some point freed himself from his own trousers, now held up merely by his suspenders, and the width of his hips alone. A trail of brown hair that appeared darker in the moonlight was visible in the opening of Arthur's trousers.

"Alright, alright." 

Arthur wasted no time. He spit in his hand, working the liquid onto his own member. John shuddered as he heard a low hum of pleasure drone from Arthur's throat, and watching the man touch himself made his own member twitch. Arthur noticed his lovers gaze, cause for another grin.

"You like'at?" He asked, looking up at John. 

"Y-yeah," John stuttered out.

Arthur removed his hand from his member, lathered in his own saliva, and dripping pre-cum.

He placed two fingers at John's dry, parted, kiss-swollen lips. Arthur felt the coolness of the air that John sucked in on his fingers, watching the younger man's cheeks flush with arousal.

"Y'know what to do, darlin'..." Arthur hummed, his voice low, comforting in a sense. 

Arthur watched as John's tongue parted easily through his lips, lapping gently at the fingertips before him.

John felt chills go up his spine like a spark--he lapped at the fingers, relishing in the taste of Arthur that rested on their pads. He tasted the salt of pre-cum and the day's sweat, causing him to groan, simply at the knowledge of what he was tasting. John wrapped his hand around Arthur's wrist, pulling the man's hand closer as he took the two digits into his mouth eagerly, swirling his tongue around them, covering them in his own saliva as Arthur had requested.

Arthur shuddered--seeing John sucking his fingers like some damned candy gave him thoughts of John between his legs, where he had sat many a time before, giving head like it was his profession. "Oh hell..." Arthur mumbled as he watched the man's lips part, seeing that pink tongue dart out and in between his fingers, wetting them as his lustful half-lidded eyes gazed up into Arthur's. 

"Alright," Arthur murmured, giving his fingers a tug as he slipped them from John's wet mouth and soft tongue--before he let it go too far. "That's 'nough now..."

Arthur dropped his hand between John's legs, pressing the tip of his middle finger lightly to John's entrance, rubbing slow circles as he felt John pulse. Hearing the man's sharp, eager breaths, and feeling him rock his hips to the best of his abilities made him want to ravage John right here--but ensuring his comfort was something Arthur put before the pleasure. 

As Arthur pressed his finger slowly into John, the man rocked his hips down wantonly to meet Arthur's hand, letting out the slowest, sultry, gravelly moan Arthur had heard from his lover so far that night.

"Arthur-" John stammered. "Arthur Morgan-"

Arthur slowly began to thrust his finger, pulling it out and pumping it back in. John began to whine, clearly wanting more, as he rocked his hips down to meet with Arthur's motions--and damn, it was driving Arthur crazy--feeling John's tight, wet heat.

Arthur obliged John's silent request, and on his next thrust in, he added the second digit, curling his fingers in at an angle that caused John to writhe noisily against the wall. As he worked his hand in and out, he noticed his own breaths were getting deeper, the throbbing between his legs telling him to speed things up. 

He let his fingers slip gently from John's entrance, causing the man to whine in protest at the loss. 

"Well I think you're gonna like this a hell of a lot better, darlin'." Arthur reassured, his gruff, husky voice melting like sweet honey in John's ears. He pushed the boys waist closer to the wall, placing the head of his member to John's entrance.

John's brow raised, looking in his eyes--and he felt the sudden intrusion. His heart fluttered and his breath hitched as he felt Arthur push deeper--looking down at their waists as he watched Arthur guide his thick member into him. His head spun--it wasn't just the whiskey. He moaned long and loud, eyes rolling back as Arthur relentlessly pushed slowly forward. 

"You--hah..." Arthur sighed as he placed his hand back on John's rear, partially spreading the man, his member now deep enough inside his lover that he could slip the rest of the way in. "You stayin' with me?"

"Uh-" John shuddered, his response slipping to a groan as he felt Arthur's member inch deeper. It felt like he was being torn in half, yet not so much a feeling of pain, but one of minor discomfort he knew would dwindle once Arthur pushed further in and set a pace. "Uh-huh," he replied. "Yeah, I'm a-alright." 

"Thought I was-" Arthur paused, snapping his hips forward with a grunt, bottoming out with his hips flush against Johns. "-losing you for a second. You got all limp on me, mouth open and your eyes a-flutterin'...." 

John took in a sharp breath as Arthur pulled back without a word, snapping his hips forward quickly once again, burying himself deep inside John with a gruff moan. 

John cried out at the feeling as his hips knocked back against the wall with an audible thud, making no effort to hide the pleasure burning through his body like good liquor would down his throat--his head throwing forward into Arthur's neck as he took in the mans scent, his hands winding into Arthur's tan locks. He heard the sound of his hips hitting the wooden panel wall, the sound of Arthur's sweat-dampened skin on his own.

Arthur heard it to--and he wondered what the people in the saloon heard--if anything. 

'Please let it be too lively in that damned bar,' he thought.

Arthur began to pick up a pace, quick--rough. John knew he would have bruises on his hips and hind end come morning; both from being slammed against this wooden wall, and the force of Arthur's clenching hands holding their firm grip on his skin.

"Oh, oh hell Arthur," John huffed, his voice the only focus in Arthur's mind. "Please, please don't stop!" He begged. 

"Ain't got any intention of that, sweetheart-" Arthur kissed slowly, feverishly down his neck, effortlessly pulling one of the younger man's hands up as he did, pinning it to the wooden wall behind them as he fucked into John, anchored above the younger man's head. 

Arthur maintained the same pace, his hips' movement fluid as he rutted into John every half-second. If he hadn't drank so much whiskey, he was certain he would last longer--but as of now, it was very difficult for Arthur to avoid coming simply by looking at John. 

His features; those dark eyes, long charred brown hair, tangled and messy from the lack of a week's wash. The way his scars painted his cheek pink, interrupting the pattern of his blush that covered his face like a veil. His subtle scruff that he had chosen to keep since his teenage years, coarse umber hairs driven apart by the same scars, and the chapped lips that placed messy kisses with rushed intention. The small vertical scar that altered John's lips, causing a symmetrical divot that fit like a puzzle piece when he closed those lips together. 

But John couldn't close his lips right now--no, his head was back against the saloon wall once again, mouth agape as he cried out with every thrust Arthur pushed forth. 

"Arthur Morgan!" He was practically screaming as his only free hand clawed at the flesh of Arthur's back, high, breathy gasps coming from John's chest.

Arthur was surprised at the boy's flexibility--John had kept his legs up and over Arthur's shoulders this entire time, and Arthur knew it likely wasn't an easy task, judging off of nothing more than the angle at which they were bent.

He picked up his pace--rocking forward rougher, a more passionate rolling motion taking over his hips as he pushed inside John--and then he hit it. He knew his member had hit that spot deep inside John from the way John writhed under him--the boys blue-grey eyes shot open, burning deep into Arthur's gaze as he gasped. His right hand gripping at Arthur's hair now, his left hand in a finger lock with Arthur's own--held back against the rough wooden wall above their heads.

"Th--there--" is all the man could manage, body shaking, nodding his head in confirmation of Arthur's action, breath hitching as Arthur's hips thrusted forward and idled to a stop, his member pressed deep, boot scuffing into the dirt as he held firm pressure on that spot inside him that he knew how to find all too well.

"R-right--t-there Arthur--" John stuttered, feeling heat travel from his core down between his legs and up over his throat and to his cheeks, making them burn like coals.

"Yeah--" Arthur pulled out a mere few inches, simultaneously drawing a whine out of John that came as a plea for more pleasure.

"I figured that by the way your toes curled n'the way ya tensed up around me." A cocky grin surfaced on his lips as he let the dirty talk come from his mouth, showing his teeth as he thrusted forward again with a fervent vigor, pinning that spot. He did it again, and again--sending begging cries of pleasure ripping from John's throat with his ruthless, unrelenting pace. 

John's voice was rough as gravel as it is, and Arthur knew that by the morning it would be destroyed. 

"Arthur Morgan!-" John cried out, tears of ecstasy burning at the corners of his eyes, rolling down off his cheeks like raindrops off a window. He felt Arthur's thick member push into him, pressing up against that spot that made his heart race, and the grinding--oh, the grinding. Arthur's wide hips ground on John's as he forced himself as deep as he was in length, and as deep as John could stand, their skin glued together by sweat, every unabated thrust inching him closer and closer to the edge.

"Arthur, Arthur I-I'm--" he stuttered, cupping Arthur's cheek in his only free hand as he gazed into his lovers blue eyes. His mouth gaped open, panting, unable to form words when Arthur was the only thing on his mind, the center of his hazy thoughts, and his actions the source of his inability to think. 

And as their eyes met, John saw Arthur's chapped lips parted, his pink tongue resting behind his slick, wet teeth--he heard his rough, spent breaths, saw his thick brows furrowed in concentration that was quickly slipping. 

His thrusts became uneven, messier--he was getting close, and John knew it. He was getting rougher, more forceful. "John," he whispered, as he thrusted faster, harder.

"John Marston--"

His drawl took control, working together with the lighter gravel in his voice that only surfaced when he was nearly spent, sounding hard on the vowels in "Marston".

His lovers voice sent chills ricocheting down John's spine. Arthur's husky voice drove him wild, made him feel gone in the head. Arthur made him feel more intoxicated than the best whiskey. 

"Arthur!!" John shouted, his legs shaking tenfold as they folded on Arthur's sturdy shoulders, pulling the men closer together--another cry ripping from John's throat as Arthur pushed John's right knee to his chest, bending the boy nearly in half. 

"That's right darlin'--" Arthur urged, hips still fucking inexorably into John. And, damn it all, their eyes met. "Let go for me." 

And just like that, John was finished. He cried out as Arthur forced forward with another deep thrust, coming on his own sweat-drenched, tattered, red button up shirt. His hips spasmed in throes, releasing hot, white liquid that now began to drip down his member and pool on his belly. It made a mess of the nearly black hairs that graced John's midsection--but he could give a shit less.

Arthur saw--he saw his lover's member pulse, releasing ropes of white on his own shirt uncontrollably--his face contorted into a moan of ecstasy, tears running from his blue-grey eyes down onto his stubble-covered cheeks as he watched himself finish. 

If it wasn't for the whiskey, Arthur wouldn't have let go as quick as he did. But no--he finished inside his lover, filling John with his seed. His muscles demanding his body shake like a leaf upon climax, tensing so hard he knew he would ache come morning. 

He gritted his teeth as his hips tensed and he rode out his orgasm, thrusting into John a few final times, a few rough breaths ripping from his throat--and his eyes fluttered back open to focus on John; something he would rather not miss. 

John's eyes were locked on Arthur's hips, seeing where Arthur's member was buried every inch deep inside him, still pulsing hot--his skin was taut, tensing muscles flexing underneath as his skin shone with sweat under the full moon's pale light.

As Arthur released raspy, spent breaths, and John listened, overwhelmed by the pleasure and the presence of Arthur--he grabbed at the man's old blue button-up shirt collar, yanking him into a deep, heated kiss--his tongue forcing its way into Arthur's mouth. 

Arthur's tongue pushed against John's and he could still slightly taste himself there, a low groan coming from his throat as his hips movements had slowed to a halt, stopping, as so they were maintaining their position, keeping John up against the wall.

John pulled back from the kiss, sucking in a gasp of air like a fish out of water as he panted. "Arthur--" he croaked, looking over Arthur's face, still basking in the afterglow. He reached up, his callused hand rubbing over the bigger man's scruffy cheek. "That was--it was-" he stuttered. 

"Perfect." Arthur's breath was barely above a whisper--a grin on his full lips, flashing his teeth to John. "It was per-" 

Their conversation was interrupted by the squeaky hinge of the outhouse door behind them--one pair of drunken footsteps scuffing into the dry, reddish-brown, dusty ground of Valentine, stumbling over one another as they tried to get enough traction to scurry off, hopefully unnoticed.

Arthur turned his head, enough to meet the eyes of a drunken stranger, who ran faster, as fast as you could when you were seeing double, upon realizing that Arthur and John were still in the middle of their little afair. 

John's head pressed into Arthur's neck, hiding his face from his view. "Is he gone?" John whispered. 

Arthur's chest shook as he roared into laughter, his head thrown back with that gorgeous smile painting his face. "Yeah, yeah he's gone. No doubt gone to go tell the bartender that he was waiting for some cowboy to finish fuckin' his girl behind the saloon." 

John slapped at Arthur's back, drunkenly snickering involuntarily. He ran his hand in Arthur's hair--squeezing the locks with a groan as he felt Arthur pull out his member--he squirmed as he felt Arthur's release dripping from his entrance. "Shit, Arthur..." he grumbled. 

"We better get on out of here, 'fore we're locked up for public indecency, or somethin'..." Arthur was watching over his shoulder. He took off his black neckerchief, folding it. He placed the cloth between John's legs, drawing it forward gently--cleaning his lover, and coaxing a moan from him. "There...should be good enough 'til we get back to camp, huh?" 

John nodded in agreement. He pulled his trousers back on, buttoning them, slipping his suspenders back over his shoulders. "My whole body is sore--" he swayed, leaning on Arthur's strong arm as he tried to find a place for his feet on the ground that seemed to move underneath him.

If it wasn't for the whiskey, his balance would be better. 

"I'm sure you will be..." Arthur said as he placed himself in his own trousers, buttoning them up. He arched his back as he tucked his shirt in, readjusting his suspenders. He snatched his hat off the ground, tipping his head down to place the item back on his head. "'Specially in the mornin'..."

"Shut it..." John huffed, swatting the air in Arthur's general direction, an empty threat of warning.

Without question, Arthur scooped the man off his feet, carrying him to his horse out in front of the bar. Oh, and John hummed in pleasure, his head resting gently on Arthur's broad chest, hearing the drum of his heartbeat as he allowed his body to relax in Arthur's arms. 

"I know you must be worn out, y'didn't protest." 

John rolled his eyes, his arms slipping around his cowboy's neck. "Shut up, sunshine." 

Arthur laughed again as he hopped up and settled on his horse--he shifted, adjusting room for John as he swung John's right leg over the side of the saddle. They now sat chest to chest, John taking this as his opportunity to rest up against his lovers body. He still heard Arthur's heart beating, and he heard that deep drumming of his voice as Arthur praised his horse, drawl complementing his voice.

"I've gotcha darling..." he assured to his lover, his hand running in John's hair, playing with the dirty locks. "I've gotcha..."

"Mh." It was all John could manage. After tonight, he would sleep like a baby. And he knew he would be resting on Arthur's chest, in Arthur's cot near Arthur's wagon, the big mans arms around his body and their legs all tangled together. This man was intoxicating--and John had Arthur all to himself. 

"Sleep, Marston." Arthur pushed John closer, much to John's pleasure. "You've earned it...wolf man." 

A slap echoed off Arthur's back, followed by Arthur's laugh--then John's. The hooves of his horse tromped quietly out of camp--and Arthur hoped, in the event of their inevitable eventual return, that the town of Valentine wouldn't recognize him, or John, for the not-so-quiet events they were proudly guilty of behind the Valentine saloon.


End file.
